Let That Be As It May
by Zena HellFire
Summary: Moriarty's meeting with a client doesn't go as anks to Moran they make it out alive, even if not unharmed, meaning a bullet for the sniper and a bad cold for ck home, Sebastian has to nurse his sick, and annoying as ever, boss. But their arguments will lead to an unexpected consequence for their fucked-up "relationship".[Moran/Moriarty](I'm awful at summaries!Sorry)


Hello, folks!

This is my first (published) story about Sherlock fandom. The series i without any doubt my favourite show, and I really wanted to write something about it. And since I'm completely in love with Jim Moriarty, he had to be the focus of my first work in the fandom, especially after what they has shown us last month. Don't worry, this story is spoiler free!

Speaking of that, I think this could be considered pre-series or at least pre-TRF (of course). I've been reading/watching also other books/stories/films related to Sherlock Holmes and I found myself quite caught by Sebastian Moran's character as well (yeah, I'm one of the people who really long to see him in "Sherlock" as well...Or to get that spin-off about him and Jim that had been proposed by some fan on the internet. It would be awesome!).

Since today is V-Day, I thought that it could be nice to publish the story today, also to say "Happy V-Day" to everyone, even if I don't celebrate and even if the fic has nothing to do with it.

Sorry for the rambling (I always get nervous when I'm publishing something!). Please, let me know what you think about it! I don't have a beta, so please, forgive me my errors. English is not my first language!

Enjoy!

**Warnings**: The story contains slash (Moran/Moriarty, Mormor)! Don't like, don't read please!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters or the show. Everything belong to A. C. Doyle and BBC!

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**Let that be as it may**

That wasn't supposed to happen. It should have been a not friendly but still peaceful business meeting, not an exchange of potentially lethal shots. But when you worked for James Moriarty you could never be sure of what was waiting ahead for you. For that reason, and for many others he had learnt during the years spent at the madman's side, Sebastian Moran was always ready. For what, he didn't know, but still prepared pretty much for everything. And they had to thank his quick reflexes if the people with a bullet in the skull were some of their client's men and not them.

The sniper had felt the atmosphere of the small Finnish cottage getting colder and colder and he calmly had crossed his arms, his right hand casually resting on the gun hidden in his jacket and the left tapping on the one he had secured on his hip. He wasn't exactly listening to the discussion going on between the Russian man and his employer, he was too busy keeping an eye on the armed men who were standing behind their clients. He had already spotted their weapons, three guns on each bodyguard and the one on the left had also a knife in his boot. He and Moriarty were facing the door, but there was a window behind their backs, large enough to become an emergency exit once broken the glass.

A sudden stream of curses in Russian had forced him to move his attention back to his boss's speaker, whose face was now livid and awfully tense. He was grinding his teeth in rage, but Jim had showed no worry at all, had spoken few amused words in the Slavic language and chuckled. The client hadn't seemed to have appreciated whatever he had said because he had jumped on his feet and shouted orders. His jackals had immediately reached for their guns, but before they could draw them Moran had already shot two of them and had grabbed Moriarty by the waist.

"Moran, what are you…?!" the consulting criminal had started to protest, but he had interrupted him ignoring the deadly glare he had just received.

"Sorry, boss, but it's time to leave the party" he had stated shooting at the window and crashing the glass. His opponents were quickly recovering from their shock, they needed to get out before the shooting started. He had lifted himself through the opening and had dragged the shorter man with him, ignoring the splinters that scratched his skin through his trousers. "Forgive me my bad manners, but we are in a rush. I'll make it up to you later."

"You moron! If you don't let me go immediately be sure that I'll _skin_ you alive as soon as we get home!" Jim had growled, clearly irate, struggling in the other's strong grip. "I'm not kidding! Let me go, Moran!"

Pretending not to have heard the threat, Sebastian had jumped on the frozen ground, running quickly behind a woodpile, and, once there, he had unceremoniously threw his employer in a snowdrift. And there he was, knelt beside the shorter man, carefully leaning out, gun in hand. Behind them there was only the lake shore, only two metres apart. That meant no alternative ways of escape, but at least their enemies couldn't surround them either. The bodyguards had run out after them through the cottage door, followed closely by their boss, who was once again shouting in Russian. The ex-soldier didn't know the language, but there were few expressions, which could turn out to be essential in his job, that he had forced himself to pick up in many idioms. One of them was "kill them" and it was exactly what had just come out from their now former client. He didn't wait another second and shot one of the men right in the chest. The other collapsed in the snow, staining its white with his blood.

A spray of gunfire followed his shot, forcing him to take shelter behind the woodpile. He cursed heavily under his breath. There were more men than the five who had been in the room with them. It wasn't going to be easy. He glanced at Jim who was still wearing his frown but hadn't shown any intention of scolding him again. The shorter man's suit was completely damped and he was shivering, even if he was trying not to show it. The sniper bit his lower lip, growling lowly and cursing the horrible choice of place for the meeting. Neutral ground or whatever, he didn't care. The fact was that temperature was several degrees below zero and his own fingers were starting to become numb. He needed to get them somewhere warmer soon or they both would risk hypothermia in addiction to a bullet hole.

"Hold on, boss" he said quietly, biting his lips. "I'll get us out quickly". He handed Jim his other gun. "Take it. And don't move. I'll take care of those bastards."

Moriarty raised a questioning eyebrow as he took the weapon, but Moran once again ignored it and brushed past him heading towards the other end of the pile. The bullets were still being fired, but he was sure that it was only a diversionary. There were eight armed men on them, but he could count only four guns shooting. They were surely covering the other four approaching their shelter. He needed to be quick if he didn't want to find himself in a quite inconvenient position. He crawled in the snow, ignoring the biting cold, and reached his destination. Once there he took a deep breath, flexing his fingers. Catching his opponents off guard was his only chance to end the whole thing quickly. He had to succeed in shooting them all before they got him. Otherwise…He would have to deal with serious injures too.

Sebastian tightened his grip on his weapon and stood, immediately setting his sight on the nearest man, who had almost reached the woodpile, instantly shooting him dead. The others immediately turned towards him, but he didn't let them the time to take aim and fired again, shot after shot, hitting his target each time. A bullet grazed his arm, gaining a gasp of pain from his lips, but he forced himself to ignore the blood soaking his shirt and jacket and drew the gun towards the last jackal, only to find out that the man had already his weapon on him and was smirking triumphantly. The sniper swore, stiffening in his spot. His mind was racing. The bastard was about to shot him. He would have no time to dodge it and, even if he had fired in turn, he would have been hit. His finger tightened on the trigger. One thing was sure. He wasn't going down alone.

However, before he could do anything, the bodyguard collapsed, crimson liquid flooding out from his forehead. The ex-soldier turned and his surprised eyes met the figure of his employer standing, gun still drawn in his target's direction. A feral smirk blossomed on his face as he started to walk towards him. Jim never wanted to dirty his hands, but he knew well that the consulting criminal still had a very good aim when he needed it. He always had to put at use all his skills to dodge the objects that the shorter man threw at him when he was in a foul mood. And at times the paper holder or the lamp hit him anyway.

"Nice shot, boss" he complimented going to stand by his side, rubbing his wrist on his wound. "You have been going to the shooting range again, haven't you?"

"Don't try to flatter me. I'm still going to punish you for ruining my clothes and forcing me to use this stupid thing". Moriarty let his weapon fall on the ground. "My suit costs more than your favourite riffle, you idiot. I'm going to use your payment to buy a new one". He gave his sniper another dirty look. "And don't even dare to think that I've been practicing just because you suggest me to do it. I was bored."

Moran rolled his eyes with an amused grin and opened his mouth to retort, but he caught a sudden movement with the corner of his eye before he could say anything. His training kicked in immediately and he pushed the consulting criminal aside, out of the line of fire. The bullet penetrated his flesh this time, sticking into his right shoulder. He cried out in pain and fury, falling in the snow. His sight blurred for a moment, but he quickly blinked to clear it. There was no time for weaknesses. He grabbed the gun that Jim had abandoned with his left hand and shoot, hitting their former client in the chest and successfully getting rid of him. A few time he had been so glad to be ambidextrous.

As soon as he saw the Russian falling, he let his arm relaxed and groaned, closing his eyes. Luckily no bone had been hit, but it hurt like hell anyway. He threw the weapon away and pressed a handful of snow on the wound to stop the bleeding. The last thing he needed now was to faint for blood loss. He would have to extract the bullet and wrap the wound as soon as they would be somewhere comfortable, but for now the snow could do. There was a small team waiting for they call only few kilometres apart.

He forced himself in a seated position and looked around, just in time to spot Jim trudging out of the lake, now completely drenched. In the rush of getting him out of the fire line he had inadvertently pushed the madman in the freezing waters. He was going to pay dearly for his carelessness. His eyes widened in horror and he stood up immediately, rushing towards him and taking off his jacket in the process, not without difficulties and ignoring the fact that he was now wearing only a blood-stained shirt. His attention was all focused on Moriarty, who was now shaking uncontrollably, arms wrapped around himself. The ex-soldier put the piece of clothing on the other's shoulders and dared to hook his good arm around them, pulling his employer close to him. Body heat was the first handy way to fight hypothermia. The long nights in the desert during the months at war had taught him and his comrades that.

"Boss, you have better to call the others" he suggested, feeling the other snuggling even more in his chest. Under different circumstances he would have laughed at the scene, but not now. At least, he had better not if he wanted to stay alive. "It's a bit too cold for my tastes."

"Y-You…weren't the one w-who ended up in…in a f-fucking frozen…lake!" Jim stuttered in an angry tone. He usually never swore, but the situation was pulling him to his limits. He was used to stand behind the safe line, watching the others working, fighting and dying from a comfortable spot. Now he was completely, literally frozen and even thinking was getting harder. The heat of the ex-soldier's body was helping, but wasn't enough. The taller man's skin was cold as well. They needed help and soon. He sneezed. "Moran…you…you useless low being! C-Call them. My phone…is dead! Thanks to the bloody lake!"

Sebastian nodded, not daring to answer, and removed his arm from his employer to grab his phone, quickly sending a text before putting it back around the shorter man's shoulder. The consulting criminal sneezed again, teeth chattering, and they both knew that the next day he would be ill, for the first time in years. The ex-soldier lifted his eyes. Fantastic. He would have to deal with a sick Moriarty other than with a gunshot wound.

Five minutes later the team was there, bringing everything they needed and ready to assist them. Jim was wrapped in a thermal blanket and brought on the snowmobile, while one of the men helped the sniper to take care of his wound, extracting the bullet for him and wrapping the injured flesh. Once they were done, Moran nodded a silent "thank you" to his subordinate and joined the consulting criminal on the vehicle. The engine was immediately started and the snowmobile got away the cottage behind, leaving the clean team the task to erase every trace of the mess. The Moriarty leant into him, seeking even more warmth, and he was glad to comply, twisting his body so that his boss could almost rest in his lap. None of them speak a word, each lost in his own thoughts, while outside the snow started to fall.

Sebastian snorted exasperated as a pillow hit him right in the face, making him drop the book he had been trying to read for an hour by now. He lifted his eyes to meet pissed dark ones. His boss was sat on the other side of the leather coach, wrapped in two blankets and surrounded by used tissues. An empty cup was rested on the coffee table in front of him, together with a half-eaten chocolate cookie.

It had been almost a week since the Finnish fiasco. Jim had become unbearable as soon as they had crossed the threshold of the consulting criminal's flat. Moran had been forced to move in to be able to play at his best the role of the nurse. He didn't mind that part, after all he had being spending more time there than in his own apartment in the last year and half, nights included, both for work and for his own pleasure. The guest room was pretty much his own by now and he even kept some spare clothes in the wardrobe too. He wasn't bothered even by his many, at times annoying tasks. Taking care of the madman was a part of his job and he had already got used to having to do all the domestic chores, as well as to fighting with his employer to get him to eat and sleep. So adding to them a new struggle to make him take his meds didn't really matter to him. Actually, he had to admit, not aloud obviously, that this sick version of Moriarty was almost _cute_ in some moments. The man spent most of his time huddled up in his blankets, cheeks lightly blushed because of the fever and looking almost harmless, which was a first. Usually he managed to look dangerous even in the silliest situation, but apparently not when he was curled up like a big cat on the sofa, sulking, a steaming mug of tea in his hands. It almost made him smile.

What really disturbed his was his employer's attitude towards him. The consulting criminal was always irritable, possibly even more than his usual self, and, when he didn't give him the silent treatment, he spent his time whining, complaining and insulting him. Everything that Sebastian did was turned into a pretext to start a fight or to cover him with sarcastic comments and offensive remarks. He knew that it was a payback for what had happened at the cottage, but the sniper couldn't help thinking that he was being wronged. It wasn't his fault if their late client had decided to get rid of them because he didn't want to pay the due price, nor it was the fact that Moriarty couldn't have a conversation without calling his speaker every name under the sun. He hadn't pushed him in the freezing waters on purpose. He had prevented him from being shot, and he was rather inclined also to remind that he had taken the bloody bullet in his place as well. So nobody could blame him if he repaid the shorter man with a similar harsh treatment when the other hit on his nerves. He had more than once refused to satisfy his employer's whims, ignoring his protests and leaving the flat without permission. He had also started to smoke inside, knowing well how much the other hated it. Other times he had tried to talk Jim out of that childish behaviour, but in vain. Nothing he had done or said had been enough to stop their war.

"What was that for?" the ex-soldier asked, grabbing the pillow and throwing it back, right in his speaker's face.

Moriarty let out an annoyed groan at that, but pushed the soft object on the floor. He couldn't start that kind of battle, he couldn't compete with Moran's aim. "You pushed me in a bloody frozen lake, that's what it was for" he stated harshly instead.

"Again? Come on, boss, drop it. This thing is starting to get awfully annoying. For the both of us" Sebastian answered, trying to keep his temper in check. "Besides, I'd like to remind you that I was trying to save your fucking life."

"I'm more tempted to think that you were trying to end it" the consulting criminal accused, his voice getting even colder. "Just let me get better, Moran, and I swear that you'll never forget your punishment". His eyes shone dangerously. "If you were at least able to do your job properly, I wouldn't be confined here with a stupid cold. Instead you are one of the most useless beings who have ever walked on the earth! Your task was to keep me safe, and what have you done? You have almost made me freeze to death. If it wasn't for you being the best sniper on the market, you would already be dead and buried."

The ex-soldier bared his teeth. "Fuck off, Jim!" he barked getting up. He could feel his anger growing in his chest, pushing to be realised. He needed some fresh air to calm down or he would end up punching his employer.

"Where do you think you are going, Moran? You are not leaving this flat until I tell you that you can go. Sit down. _Now_" the consulting criminal ordered, knowing too well that the other had to obey to a direct command. His voice turned from ice-cold to mockingly. "What's wrong, Sebby? Can't stand you the truth? Does it hurt being the stupid, common and awfully _boring_ little being that you are? Oh, I can understand it. If I'm so _disgusted_ by you, I can't even image how horrible being you must be. My poor worthless pet. You always try so hard and yet you only manage to be disappointing."

Moran clenched his fists, knuckles paling as his nails sunk in his palms. That was really enough. He hadn't slept properly in three days because of the shorter man's moods and pranks. He was tired, he had a terrible headache and his injured shoulder hurt like hell because he hadn't had the time to treat it properly in the last week. "So that's it? I'm just a useless bore to you?" he sneered, his pale eyes burning with anger. "Alright. That's fine. I mean, you are the almighty genius here, so it must be true. Then I guess you don't mind if I quit, do you?"

Jim's eyes widened in surprise. He wasn't expecting that answer. "You_ what_? You can't be serious" he asked, furious and incredulous. "You can't just _quit_, Moran! Don't be an even worse idiot. You know very well that there's only one way to leave my side."

"Oh, I know it well, _Moriarty_" the sniper spat out, crossing his arms. He was still standing in spite of the previous command to sit down and his eyes wore a defiant look. The shorter man was right, he wasn't thinking about getting fired, in all senses, for real. But he couldn't take that situation any longer and he wanted to push the other as far as he could, not caring about the consequences. Moriarty wouldn't get rid of him so easily, or at least he hoped so. "But I _am_ quitting. Come on, call your men and have me killed, that's this is the procedure, right? I have executed too many people for you not to know how it works. Will you torture me? I bet you will, after all I'm not just one of your minions". His sneer widened in a sickening way seeing that his boss hadn't moved at all. "What are you waiting for? I'm worthless, an idiot, aren't I? I'm sure that you can easily hire another sniper, even if he won't be as good as I am. But you can deal with it. As you can find a new second in command and someone else ready to fuck you. Don't you agree, Jim?"

"Moran, I told you to stop being an idiot. You are talking nonsense" the consulting criminal said, coldly but calmly. He couldn't believe his ears. That wasn't the first time they had a heated fire, but he must really have pulled the man's strings too much to make him say those things. And he didn't like it at all, because he could read in the other's posture that he wasn't kidding after all. Besides, his employee had never used his surname since their first meeting. Another bad sign. "Maybe it's better if you go for that walk and cool down. Then you had better to come back and apologise. Otherwise I will consider for real your death wish."

Sebastian held his gaze, almost mockingly. "Oh, I'm not going anywhere. You are no longer my boss, you can't give me orders. I'm a dead walking man, but I'm also a _free _one now" he stated, lowering his voice in turn. "So, go on and kill me. I have no intention to work for a man who doesn't even care for his own life. I'm not ending up once again alone and unemployed in a blood dirty hole just because my boss has killed himself or has been killed out of carelessness! No way, I'd rather die while still holding my position!"

Jim rolled his eyes, irritated. "Now, now, Moran. Don't give me that crap" he snorted, leaning his chin on the palm of his hand. His tone was soaked in sarcasm. "Because you, filthy thing, care about my life instead, don't you?"

The sniper shook his head in disbelief. How could the madman ask such a stupid question? "Of course I _do_ care, you prick! I took a bullet for you less than a week ago! Or have you already forgotten? And it hasn't been the first time that I almost got killed to protect you and your affairs. It's my job, but I don't enjoy it that much. Or do you think that I have some freaking fetish for being shot and torture perhaps?" he exclaimed, too worked up to really mind what he was saying. "I'm ready to do _anything_ for you, to keep you safe and satisfied, to meet your bloody impossible expectations! I care about your life, and not only because you pay me. I care because working for you is my only aim, the only sense of my existence, because _you_, insane son of a bitch, and your fucking suicidal plans are my life!"

He was almost yelling by the end of his speech and once he was finished he just stood there, panting and frozen. He had said too much, he had let dangerous words slip through his lips, implying meanings that should have never seen the light of the day. The silence had fallen on the flat and a thick tension burdened the atmosphere, matching the intensity of the strange dark light that shone in Moriarty's eyes. The latter kept his gaze focus on the ex-soldier, an unfathomable expression on his face. It was impossible know if he was furious, disappointed or simply disgusted. Sebastian knew only one thing. His boss hated sentiment, especially the kind he had just shown. It was really true, he was a worthless failure, he had just thrown away years of almost perfect service by making an only unforgivable mistake.

"You are so sweet that it makes me even more _nauseous_" the consulting criminal commented in the end, several minutes later. His tone matched his words, he really sounded sickened. His eyes, instead, bore something else, to obscure to be read. "You have deeply disappointed me, Moran. I haven't hired you and made you my right-hand man to have you to care. On the contrary, I did it because I thought you wouldn't. What should I do with you now?"

"I think I should leave" the ex-soldier answered quietly, lowering his gaze in shame. Speaking those words hurt more than the wound on his shoulder. "If you decide to get rid of me, your men will find me at my place. I won't fight back, I promise. If you don't…Call me when you have got a job for me. I'll go on doing everything I've always done for you, but I swear that you won't see my face or hear my voice again unless it's strictly necessary."

He was about to turn to leave, but Jim's voice stopped him one more time. "Sebastian _Moron_, take another step and I will shoot you here and now" it threatened, but the harshness in it was gone. "Where do you think you are going? I've already told you that you can't leave if I don't give you the permission to do it. You can't leave, I still need your assistance. I'm _sick_ and it's your fault. You still have to make it up to me."

Moran looked at his employer, confused and surprise. He had thought that the man would be happy to have him out of the way, instead there was an almost playful hint in his voice. The consulting criminal got up from his spot and approached him, but when he sought his gaze he noticed that the other's eyes were now avoiding him.

"Boss?" he inquired, uncertain.

"I'll tell you more, 'Bastian. You'd better make up your slow mind and move in here, once and for all. You have been thinking about it for _months_. I think you should just act on it as you do with all the rest" he claimed, leaving his employee speechless. For the first time he was thankful for the fever that reddened his cheeks. Not that he would blush, of course. His body didn't know that kind of reaction. Even if he couldn't deny that he was feeling a bit uncomfortable. He grabbed the taller man's wrist and his nails painfully dug in the other's flesh. He was a psychopath unable to feel love or friendship or whatever, and yet the thought of no longer having his lethal shadow by his side made something tremble inside him. It didn't scare him, but it still didn't feel right. "I can't afford you to go around alone. You a potential target that could be used against me, even if not an easy one. I need to keep you close to me, so that I can help you to hide your idiotic sentimentalism. We have appearances to keep up. Moriarty can't afford weaknesses. Got it?"

Sebastian grinned widely at that, a real smile blossoming on his face. Jim couldn't help staring at it. He had never seen his sniper smile sincerely. He usually smirked or sneered, and there was always a hint of sarcasm or scorn in his expression. His sharp features seemed softer in that moment. He felt a hand covering his own, fingertips gently brushing his skin.

"I got it, boss" the ex-soldier nodded slowly. He hadn't missed what his employer wanted to say with his words. "_I don't know how this happened, but I fucking care too. I should have you killed, but instead I want you to stay by my side. Forever and always_". It warmed him up from the inside. He wasn't expecting the other to say it aloud and he was fine with that. It was as Jim had said, Moriarty couldn't afford to have weaknesses, as Moran shouldn't have. He sank his eyes in those dangerously charming dark globes. "And I got _you_."

The consulting criminal smirked, a hint of fondness on his face, and realised him wrist. "I'm sure of that, Seb. You are the best when you take charge of something" he simply stated, closing the matter and making up a bit for his previous insults at the same time. "Now, I think you should cook us dinner. It's already late."

The sniper nodded and disappeared in the kitchen, while Moriarty sank back in the couch pillows, listening to the sound of dishes and kitchenware being moved. He tapped a finger on his lips, pensively. Maybe he had made a mistake, indulging on his moment of fragility. But it should be nothing irreparable. After all, he had done nothing but sorting out an inconvenient issue that had stayed unsolved for too much time and that his employee had accidentally brought up. It was fated to happen sooner or later. Moran had never put too much effort in concealing the attraction he held for him, both on a physical level and on a mental one. He himself had never been immune to the sniper's rough charm, especially since he was able to see his sharp mind behind his merciless bloodthirsty killer's mask. They had started to gravitate around each other every time they had had the chance to, both of them pretending not to notice their common pull. Then one evening, after a particularly exciting job, it had happened. Sebastian was turned on as always after a killing and he was still thrilled as well by the unexpected but fun sides that the episode had provided to him. Their eyes had lingered in each other a moment too much and the next thing he had known was that he was pressed against a wall, hands in his sniper hair, while they were both busy devouring each other's mouth. It had been the first of the countless night that the taller man had spent in his bed.

And yet, not even the sex had solved their issue. Acting on a purely physical level had gave them the chance to unload the tension, but it was only a matter of time before it would start not to be enough anymore. The Finnish fiasco had been the breaking point of a situation that had been going on for years. He was furious because Moran had been shot. He knew too well that the ex-soldier could have died on that frozen land and he had found himself unable to deal with the overwhelming feeling that the awareness had given him. So he had taken it out on the sniper, who had been madly worried as well because Jim had avoided death by a hair in turn. The whole situation had already happened before, more than once, but they had arrived at their limit. They had to ways to solve the matter, parting forever or acting on it. And, since the first option was unacceptable, they had had no real choice other than playing their little show of yells and threats. Now they were finally done, it was settled once and for all. Moriarty knew that it should have upset him, all that sentiment, but instead it had put him in a better mood. And it was a very welcome surprise.

They dined in silence and for once the consulting criminal didn't make a fuss over eating his food or shoot his employee some sarcastic comment about his cooking. Actually it was quite good, but there was no way that Jim complimented it, not even under torture. After the meal the dishes were abandoned in the sink, where they would be in the morning waiting for Sebastian to take care of them, and the two moved back in the living room. The sniper had planned to go back to his book, but his boss prevented him from doing it, forcing him to lay down on the couch and then curling up next to him, back against his chest, being careful not to harm the injure shoulder. He didn't protest, too astonished to say or do anything. In the end he tentatively sneaked an arm around the shorter man's waist and, seeing that no harm had come from his dare, he relaxed a bit more, his other hand playing with the other's silky hair. The news was playing on the television but none of them was really paying attention.

"Ah, Seb, by the way. I don't like to cuddle" Moriarty purred pressing himself closer to him, but his tone seemed to mean the opposite of what he had said. He lifted his arm, fingertips brushing the ex-soldier's jaw. "So don't get the wrong idea. This is not going to become a habit."

Moran smirked. "Of course, Jim. I would never think that" he nodded with a hint of sarcasm. "This is a special occasion."

The consulting criminal shot him a nasty glare. "You shouldn't provoke me. You know that the consequences are everything but enjoyable. At least, for the one who suffers them" he warned, but his voice remained quiet. He snorted. "I hate you, 'Bastian. You unworthy moron."

The ex-soldier laughed at that. "Always flattering, aren't you?" he commented, but didn't felt offended by the insults. On the contrary the fond tone in which they had been pronounced pleased him. "Well, I think that you are a bloody insane bastard". His fingers ran on his boss side teasingly. "But that's also why I like you so much after all."

Moriarty raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to make me sick enough to throw up my dinner, Moran?" he mocked, rolling on his back to be able to face him. "You'd have to clean up, I'm warning you."

"Flattering and now _romantic_" the taller man commented sarcastically. "Seriously, boss, you really know how to set the mood!"

"And you seriously should shut up. It's you and your idiotic mouth who are spoiling the mood, not me, darling."

"Why don't you make me?"

A manic grin crept on Jim's face and he leant forwards, capturing the sniper's lips with his own, his arms moving around the other's neck, hugging it almost too tight. They eagerly kissed, immediately deepening the contact, but for the first time it was a real kiss and not a rough battle for dominance made of bites and attempts to literally steal the other's breath away. Mouths melted together pressing one against the other, firmly but almost affectionately, and tongues danced, spreading heat along their tangled bodies. Moran would have sworn to have heard Moriarty moan in pleasure in the kiss, but didn't dare to make a comment about it as they parted to catch their breath, also because his attention was captured by the sight of his boss slowly licking his lips.

"You'll get sick staying this close to me. Are you aware of that, Seb? And what about your wound?" the madman asked smirking as he pecked him on the mouth. "I'm not going to nurse you, forget it."

"My immune system is stronger than yours, and I can take the pain. I will be fine" he shrugged, titling his head as he ran his tongue at the base of his employer's neck. "But I appreciate the thought."

"Don't flatter yourself, I was just stating a fact". Jim pushed him away and freed himself from his grip. He got up and stretched. "Now you'd better come to bed and fuck me. Maybe I will forgive you for your stupid speech about quitting."

Sebastian jumped on his feet and immediately followed him, not even trying to hide his eagerness. He should have protested since his boss still had some lines above fever and his shoulder hadn't still recovered, but it would have been a waste of time. When Moriarty set his mind on something there was no way to talk him out of him. The feeling of a hand sleeping in his own interrupted his thoughts. He shot a glance at the other, who kept his eyes in front of him as nothing was happening, and smiled again. He had better enjoy the evening because for sure Jim wasn't going to be this affectionate again anytime soon. He gently squeezed the cold pale fingers, in a silent gesture of appreciation as he entered the bedroom.

The consulting criminal smirked in response and pushed him on the bed, throwing himself on the top of him immediately after and capturing his mouth once again. Maybe having a weakness could have his positive sides, Moriarty mused as the sniper's hand roughly caressed his skin, making him shiver in anticipation. At least in private. He would surely come out with a way to exploit it. After all, taking out the best from every possible situation and making all the pieces fit together was his job. It was just another game, like his usual ones, but with the difference that he would lose everything if he made a mistake. His grin widened in the kiss. Not boring at all.


End file.
